


A Life in a Time

by preferredmethodofprocrastination



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, I dont feel like i should tag it cartinelli but theyre in love too soooooo, OC babies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 19,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferredmethodofprocrastination/pseuds/preferredmethodofprocrastination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from important times in Peggy Carter's life, post Agent Carter season 2, I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1949

Daniel stood from his chair in the restaurant, giddy. He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and fumbled for a moment before producing a ring. There was an audible sigh from the room as he dropped onto one knee, his false leg complaining all the while and offered it to her. The word she said was barely audible. It was a breath in the silent tension of the room.

“Daniel,” her crimson lips formed his name in the semblance of a sigh. They were left in an “oh” of surprise and, he hoped, wonder.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being my wife,” she stood out of her chair and looked down at him. She wore a red dress down to her knees, those silk stockings with the lines up the back, her hair shon gently in the light from above.

“As if I would say anything but yes,” she held out her hands and his first thought was to put the ring on her finger. He started to, but instead of letting him she pulled him to his feet and kissed the living daylights out of him. The people in the restaurant around the whistled and cheered and Daniel relished in the kiss.


	2. 1956

“Daddy,” the little boy at the counter sipped at his glass of milk while his Daddy watched with a smile. “Is Mummy the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Yes, Amado,” His Daddy ruffled Steven’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I think so too,” he let out a satisfied sigh and set down the empty glass. “Will I have a little sister as beautiful as Mummy someday?” he cocked his head and looked to his father, honest curiosity flooding his expression.

“Maybe, Amado,” his father said, soft brown eyes looking lovingly at Steven.

“What are my little rascals talking about so quietly?” Steven jumped at his mother’s voice and scampered to the door with an excited squeal. She caught him under the armpits and swung him around.

“I was asking Daddy if I would ever have a little sister as beautiful as you?”

“Oh, I think we can manage that, can’t we Daddy?” she set Steven down and he rubbed his eyes sleepily. “But, my love, you mustn't be disappointed if it isn’t a girl,”

“Why wouldn't it be a girl, Mummy?” he watched eagerly as his mother dug her hand into her pocketbook. She produced a fat coin that didn’t look like any of the coins he had in his piggy bank.

“This is a pound coin, Steven, from England. Now if I flip this coin up in the air like so,” she flipped it up in the air so it spun all the way up and then back down into her hand. “There is no more chance of it landing on the face side or the other side,” the showed him a picture of a very serious lady on the upside of the coin in the palm of her hand. “And if you think of this side,” she tapped the side with the lady, “as a girl, and this side,” she flipped the coin and showed him some odd squiggles with a bit of writing, “and this side as a boy, that is exactly what it comes out to.” she pressed the pound coin into his small hand and smiled her dazzling smile. “Having a baby is flipping a coin, my love. You never know whether or not the baby is a boy or a girl until you're holding them in the palm of your hand,” Steven stared at her in wonder.


	3. 1956 part 2

The horizon of her stomach was growing. Howard didn’t comment. They were in a meeting, it would have been inappropriate and he would have gotten a smack. He simply watched her draw her fingers lightly over the surface of her stomach and smile.

“... tension with the Middle East and Russia,” the presenter didn’t have his full attention but he was writing notes. He wasn’t even sure what they were about. He was too focused on her belly to see that he was writing down random formulas and equations.

“Thank you very much, Richard,” Peggy stood to shake the hand of the presenter with a gracious smile. Howard followed her lead and muttered something about “thank you” and “an important issue” before sitting down and studying his notes. Peggy sat down too, only she moved closer to him and snatched his wrist up in one of her deceptively strong hands. “There, Howard. Now you can stop looking at me like a bloody idiot,” she placed his hand gently on the wide expanse of her stomach. The first time she had been pregnant, with Steven, he had been in LA and she had been in DC. They had both been too busy in their individual enterprises to notice one another for a while. He hadn’t seen her like this.

“You’re pretty big,” he said. He knew he looked like an idiot. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide. Peggy sat sideways, allowing him to lay his hand on her without compromising her ability to write. She scribbled out a few things and then began writing again.

“I am. Is you fawning over my belly going to convince you to settle down and stop terrorizing beautiful young women the world over?” she didn’t even look up and see his bashful smile but there was a blow. Not from Peggy, per say, but from within Peggy.

“Hey!” He protested, drawing away from the strange movement.

“She agrees. She want’s you to settle down, Uncle Howard,” He saw Peggy’s red lips curve into a smile. “Isn’t that right, Docinho?”

“That means sweetie, right?” Howard placed his hand back on her belly and smiled.

“Uh huh,” Peggy scribbled away.


	4. 1957

“Howard, would you like to come to the hospital?” Daniel asked. He tried to sound calm because in the past, Howard coming to the hospital was so that Peggy could tell him where she’d been shot so he could strengthen his body armor.

“Is she dead? Is there something wrong with the baby? Oh God, is she in surgery?” Howard began hyperventilating before Daniel could get a word in edgewise.

“Hand me the damn phone, Daniel,” Peggy said. Despite her harsh words there was an air of humor in her voice.

“Yes ma’am,” he handed her the phone and traded her for the infant girl Peggy had been holding. He could still hear Howard’s nervous sobbing breaths on the other end of the line.

“Howard,” one very loud sob. “Howard, can you write?”

“Y-y-yes,” Daniel heard over the line. Peggy smiled.

“Write this down for me,” her voice was exceedingly calm. “Peggy had the baby. It’s a girl. Will you please take me to the Georgetown hospital... Have you got that?”

“Y-y-y-yes,” Howard stammered. Peggy smiled harder.

“Alright. Come on, hang up and give that to Mr. Jarvis. I want Alexandra to meet her Uncle Howard as soon as possible,” Peggy waited for the dial tone before looking at Daniel.

“He needs to get shacked up and have a kid ASAP,” Daniel smiled. He reached over and stroked the dark downy hair on the top of his daughter’s head. “I’m afraid he might steal her otherwise.”


	5. 1963

“Howie! Howie!” Alexandra came squealing into his office and jumped up on his desk like the wild thing she was. She wore a rumpled school uniform with her hair in a tight braid. She was, however shoeless.

“Yes?” He pulled her onto his lap. “What is it, Alex?”

“I learned about Captain America at school today and since I know Mummy doesn’t like to talk about him I wanted to talk to you.” he sighed. 

“Alright, kid. Shoot.”

“She wouldn’t tell us what his shield was made out of but I knew and teacher told me I was wrong to tell,” she looked genuinely distressed. She was obviously aware that her teacher was an idiot.

“No reason it’s wrong for people to know what vibranium is,” Howard agreed.

“That’s what I thought but teacher said it doesn’t exist,” she huffed.

“And then you told her Uncle Howard made Captain America’s shield,” he smiled at her fondly. She was a sweet child.

“And she wouldn’t believe me that you were my uncle, which is ridiculous! You’re my Uncle Howie!”

“Damn right!” he said, pounding his fist on the desk.

“Damn right!” she copied him.

“You are not allowed to teach my children language like that until they are at least sixteen years old Howard!” Peggy stood in the door with a smirk on her face.

“Damn right!” Alexandra said again and all three of them broke down into giggles.


	6. 1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Character death is in this chapter.

“You will sit on the bench and wait for Director Carter. At 5:59 PM I will begin to count down. At the end of that countdown, you will either blow yourself up, or I shoot Director Carter, is that clear, Agent Sousa?”

“Yeah,” he looked down at his feet. She had taken away his crutch. With his luck he’d trip and fall going in and blow the bomb before Peggy got there. She shoved him out onto the street and he shuffled and limped towards the bend. He had in an earpiece. He heard the dialing of a phone and the ringing.

“Hello, Director Carter,” Dottie paused. “It’s been a while.”

“How did you get this number?” Peggy hissed.

“Well, Daniel told me you’d be at work, so I asked for your office number instead of your home one,” he could hear Dottie’s voice and see her mouth moving inside her head. She talked like a little girl but it sounded like snake venom in his ears.

“Where is he?” Peggy growled into the phone.

“Daniel? Oh he’s fine, until 6:00, at which point he will either be a widower or a pink cloud,” Daniel felt his stomach turn.

“You don’t have to do this Dottie. There are other ways...” Peggy’s voice over the line was full of static but he could hear it as clearly as if she was an inch from his face. Her words kissed his brow, and gave him hope, however false.

“You have a quarter of an hour before I blow your head off or he blows up. He’s at the park bench where you have lunch on Sundays,” she paused another time. “If you try to disarm the bomb I kill you.” She hung up the phone and sighed. “Sorry, Agent Sousa. I think you might want to tell her what color flowers you want at your funeral.” Daniel waited, with his head down. He heard the businesslike click of heels down the walk and looked up.

“Peggy,” he smiled weakly. “God, you’re so beautiful,”

“Stop talking like a dying man, Daniel,” Peggy snapped.

“There’s no way out of this, Peggy. I am a dying man.” He quailed to see the look on her face.

“Shut up!” She covered her mouth, looking almost green.

“No,” he said softly, trying to calm her.

“Hey, you two alright?” a green looking cop sauntered towards them.

“Fine, officer,” Peggy snapped.

“Is that a gun, you got?” he asked Peggy nervously.

“Yes it is. It’s right next to my SHIELD badge, now get out,” he relaxed.

“Any way I can assist SHIELD?” he turned his gaze to Daniel and peered at him, trying to determine what the trouble was.

“Clear the area, please,” Daniel said with a weak smile.

“Anything else?”

“Keep anyone but me and Agent Sousa here out of the park and have your men search every inch of this place, anywhere a sniper could be,” Peggy didn’t take her eyes off of Daniel for a split second.

“Yes, ma’am,” the cop exited.

“Stubborn as hell, that’s part of why I like you,” Daniel felt his heart pattering inside his chest. She looked exactly like the day he’d proposed to her.

“Stoppit,” Peggy drew her hand up to her mouth to cover it. To keep herself from vomiting or doing something stupid, probably.

“I’m gonna blow it, Pegs, the second you’re out of range, you know that.” Daniel kept his voice calm and sweet.

“I’m not getting out of range then,” Peggy countered, planting her feet in a power stance and

“I’m not letting her blow your head off,” Daniel hissed.

“Oh, yes you are,” Peggy stood there, defiantly. She looked like Alex when she threw a tantrum. Her eyes flashing dark and proud and sad all at once made him want to scream at her to get away from him, to save herself.

“NO!” He begged. “White carnations, a red one in the middle, like at our wedding. Tell the kids I love em. My will is in the firebox. Tell Steven he needs to wait to enlist till he’s done with college. Tell Alex I love her. Give Harrison and his wife my best. Give my brothers and sisters love...”

“Shut up! Please,” Peggy sobbed. “I’m not letting you go!”

“We only have five more minutes, Peggy,” he stopped. “Come here, Pegs. Give me a kiss and then get out,” he growled.

“No,” she sobbed.

“She’s counting down. I have thirty seconds, kiss me,” she stumbled forwards and kissed him. She tasted like tears and lipstick. “Run,” he braced himself. “And for your own sake, don’t look back.”

“I love you,” she turned around.

“I...” he started to answer but Dottie said one and he pressed the button.


	7. 1965 part 2

“A suicide bomber in a park in the DC metro area sat on a park bench for fifteen minutes before blowing his payload. It was enough to decimate the surrounding area and leave a crater the size of a tennis court in the city’s historic….” the newscaster rattled on and on and Steven waited. He waited for his mother to come home and tell him what had happened. He heard the door slam and jumped to his feet. 

“Mum?” but he knew it wasn’t her, the footsteps were too heavy and too evenly paced to be either his mother or father. Into his view stepped a greying Uncle Tim. He had tear tracks running down his cheeks. 

“Naw, just this old Dum Dum, kid,” he embraced him for a solid minute before stepping back and wiping his nose with one of his enormous hands. “Your mom wants you at SHIELD. Your sister’s already there,” a fifteen minute car ride to a jam packed road in front of headquarters.

“Mr. Dugan are you going to give any comment on the suicide bomber. We heard from a source that it was a SHIELD agent named,” that was when uncle Tim snapped. He reached out his hand and snatched the microphone from the reporter. He looked at Tim with two parts fear, two parts terror. Tim dropped the microphone and it broke in half. 

“Only reason you aren’t nursing a broken arm is cause you didn’t say that poor man’s name. Make that mistake with any other people going in or out of this building and I will be back. Nod if you understand,” the terrified reporter shook his head vigorously and the entire pack of them backed away. Tim grabbed Steven by the collar and tugged him up the steps and through the door like a kitten. He dropped him once they were past the first three layers of security.

“What’s going on, Uncle Tim?” All of the SHIELD Agents he had known since he was a little boy were standing at their desks when they saw him. They had grave looks on their faces. Their eyes were dark with something that Steven would have described as greif. He stopped when he saw Agent Thompson. He hadn’t stood when he saw him. He had his face buried in his hands and he was shaking. One of the other original Agents of the SSR was rubbing his back and saying things in a hushed voice. “UNCLE TIM!” he stopped in his tracks in front of Thompson’s desk. He braced himself and tried his best to mimic the thunderous tone his mother used when ordering SHIELD agents around. “I am not going a STEP further until you tell me what the HELL is going on.”

“Let’s get to your mom’s office, kid,”

“NO!”

“Steven, I will carry you if I have to,”

“Go to your ma’s office, Steve,” Agent Thompson said in a broken voice. 

“Tell me,” he pleaded with Agent Thompson.

“I don’t love you enough to tell you. Go to your ma’s office,” he shook his head in the direction of the big oak door.

“Fine,” he crossed his arms over his chest and walked into his mother’s office. Before the door closed he looked out and took inventory of the desks. There was only one empty desk, his father’s. He knew.


	8. 1965 part 3

“Peggy, if you want to talk...” Uncle Howard sounded just on the edge of desperate.

“I don’t! I don’t want to talk! I am not broken! I am perfectly capable of continuing my duties as Director. In fact I think that’s what Daniel wants me to do,” the present tense made him want to stab himself, it might have hurt less.

“Peggy, you need help!” Howard shouted. Steven pulled his sleeping little sister closer to his chest, trying to muffle the sounds of the two formidable foes fighting downstairs without waking her. “You smell like vodka and it's three in the afternoon...”

“I don’t need a lecture from you on alcoholism. That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Steven was close to tears. He could feel his body begin to make those awful boiling tears fall from his eyes and that sour substance make his throat close.

“I wasn’t finished!” Alex stirred and Steven rubbed her back, praying she wouldn’t wake up from her sob induced coma. “You talk about him like he’s still here, Peggy,” his voice became softer, more loving. It sounded like when his father tried to console her after her uncle Harry had died of a heart attack. “He’s gone, Pegs. You know that, right? Your husband is dead.”

“I know that. I just keep hoping it's some horrible dream. That I’ll wake up and he’ll be there beside me,” Steven shoved his fist in his mouth in an attempt to muffle his sobs. “I hate him for not listening to me,” His mother was not some porcelain dame to be shattered at the loss. She turned to stone. She hadn’t cried at the funeral, or said a word for that matter. Steven’s uncles and aunts had gone up to the stand, each in their turn, and said a few words before breaking down into wreckage of the people they once were. She had sat up straight like there was a ruler taped to her spine and stared just past and above the poor old priest's head. The priest, Father Al, even cried. He had baptised Steven’s father and his father before him, and buried them both. He stood with his silvery white head down, shaking for five minutes solid before composing himself again. He gripped his Bible like a lifeline while he threw his handful of dirt on the almost empty coffin of Daniel Carlos Sousa.

“That’s it,” Howard said softly. Steven could hear his mother sobbing. Then there was the sound of her pounding her open palms on Howard’s chest. “Let it out.” Then he could hear something else. It was something soft and warm and breathy, something that he recognized. He got up from the bed and tiptoed down the stairs. He peered around the corner into the living room and saw... a kiss. The kiss broke. His mother slapped Uncle Howard halfway down the entry hall. Howard had the good sense to leave before things got any uglier than they were already. Steven turned on his heel and returned to his room. He put his hands over his ears and forced himself to fall asleep next to Alex instead of listening to his mother cry for hour after hour.


	9. 1965 part 4

“Bambini!” Maria grabbed Alex and Steven into a tight embrace, kissing them each on the head, much to Steven’s embarrassment. “What’s going on with you two?” Their sullen looks were uncharacteristic of the Sousa-Carter children. She knew their father died, she’d gone to the funeral, but this didn’t appear to be about that.

“Mum’s sending us to boarding school,” Alex grumbled. Steven was silent, but his silence spoke louder than words. He was nearly fifteen, a grumpy teenage boy who had no business going off to a boarding school for the first time. 

“That won’t be so bad, kiddos!” she said with a little too much enthusiasm. Steven didn’t make eye contact. “I’m sure she just wants to expand your horizons.” Her heart sank when she thought of them being so far away. She would miss them.

“She just wants not to have to look at us,” Steven whispered.

“We look too much like Daddy,” Alex mumbled.


	10. 1965 part 5

“I don’t want them gone, I want them safe,” Peggy paced and Maria sighed.  She was standoffish, but at least she looked Maria in the face.

“They don’t know that, tell them,” Maria cajoled, though she would have bet Peggy was sick of that too.

“They don’t listen!” she groaned.

“They’re grieving!” Maria said.

“Yes, they are. And I know that. All their friends know that. I'm saving them what I have to do which is accept condolences from every Tom Dick and Harry who thinks he knew my husband. I don't want their friends to treat them like they're damaged because their father blew himself up!”

“THEY ARE DAMAGED, PEGGY!" Maria shouted.

"You think I don't know that,  _ Mrs. Stark _ ? I know MY children are damaged, so you can get the hell out of my house and stop telling me how to raise my children," Peggy’s eyes were filled with tears of grief and tears of fury.

"Burning all your bridges is not your best option," Maria reached out her hand to rest it on Peggy’s shoulder. Peggy slapped it away.

"I'm not in the business of construction Maria. I am in the business of espionage, which is far more dangerous. The closer they are to me, the more danger they're in.  That is final and I do want you off my property promptly, thank you," Peggy wiped her tears from her face and failed to keep her face the picture of professionalism as she usually could, as she usually did.

"We're here to listen if you need us," Maria said, trying to honey her words. Trying to soothe her friend.

"I don't need anyone, Maria." She slammed the door in Maria’s face.


	11. 1965 part 6

“I wish Peggy and the kids were here,” Maria and Howard sat with glasses of wine by the fireplace. “It was so much fun to have them over at Christmas,” Howard rested his chin on Maria’s head as she lamented. Peggy’s sudden and violent exit from their lives and from the Washington political scene had made life very stressful for the both of them. Maria was shaken by her absence. Howard had so much on his hands with SHIELD he wondered how the hell Peggy managed it all, ever, let alone with two young kids.

“I know. She’s been MIA for five months, but the kids are fine. Boarding school is treating them... well. I sent them their gifts, they should arrive tomorrow,” Howard took a sip of his wine and then, after swallowing of course, kissed his wife tenderly.

“I’m worried about her,” Maria snuggled her head down against his chest and sighed.

“I am too,” there was a muffled sound from outside the door. Something like a howl or a squall that _couldn’t possibly_ have just been wind. It was a game they played. Guessing and figuring out the cause of various sounds outside their house. Most of the time it was Mr. Jarvis and Anna chasing one another around in the snow. “What was that?” Maria looked into Howard’s eyes and he groaned. Then there was a knock. “Alright puppy eyes, I’ll check,” he stood up, kissed her on the cheek and wandered to the door. The snow was piled high outside their New York residence and the dark didn’t seem quite so oppressive as the snow glowed under the house lights. Howard opened the door and looked around.

There, in the biggest coat he had ever seen in his life, stood Peggy. Her cheeks were red from the cold. Her breaths puffed out of her mouth in billowing clouds. She looked at him with her great big doe eyes. Howard smiled. She looked good, not gaunt or as sad as he thought she might when she returned from wherever she was. She looked rosy in the light, as beautiful as she had ever been since the first day he set eyes on her. She did not, however, revert to her most naturally occurring position, hands on her hips, head tipped down to look out over the world like she was an empress and the Earth was her empire.

“Who is it, Howard?” Maria rounded the corner with a topped off glass of red wine in her grasp. She couldn’t see Peggy until she got just behind Howard and squinted her eyes into the night. “Oh my God,” she said. The glass crunched on the floor.

“Hello,” Peggy said. Her voice was a sigh, almost blown away by the softly whistling wind. “Merry Christmas,” Maria dashed past Howard and threw her arms around Peggy in a bold embrace, only to jump back like Peggy had the plague. Peggy only smiled and shook her head. “I came to apologize to you,” Peggy said. She reached out her hands and took Maria’s in them. After  a few soft squeezes and a long gaze from each Maria looked somewhere between terrified and thrilled. Her eyes were wide and softly glimmered in the light of the bulbs hung on their house. Mr. Jarvis hung them there weeks ago with Anna sitting below, instructing him all the while. Now as they shone in Maria’s eyes he could see something else there. Fear? Sorrow? Pity?

“You don’t have to be sorry you were...” Maria stuttered to a halt.

“Grieving?” Peggy said. She pushed aside her enormous coat and placed her hand on her hip and there, in the glow of the fairy lights, Howard could see the outward round of her belly. There was the ghost of a satisfied smile set upon her features. Howard’s mind, for a split second, created a second figure in the snow. Dark hair, a crutch, a soft smile. Daniel’s ghost kissed his wife on the cheek and rested his hand on her stomach before dissipating into shadow. Howard wiped away a tear and saw Peggy do the same. Each in turn received an embrace from Maria. Howard turned to his wife and kissed her forehead, relishing her scent and the feeling of her soft skin, knowing all too well how quickly it could all be torn away.


	12. 1965 part 7

“Steven,” his mother said over the phone. Her voice sounded steady, unlike the first two times she had called him, closer to the beginning of the semester. He didn’t answer. He was still too angry at her. Alex was miserable, and he was miserable and his mother was being a selfish brat. That was his job, to be a selfish brat while he was still a child. Now he didn’t have the chance. “Steven, please,” he knew she sounded sincere. He knew she was a master of manipulation. He knew she was the only person in the world he hated. “Steven Benito Sousa, answer me or I will ship you off to an English boarding school to teach you some common decency,”

“You’re gonna give me a lecture on common decency, Mum?” he almost spat into the phone, but then again, he didn’t want to be hypocritical while telling her not to be, so he restrained himself.

“Don’t do this,” she was breathy, quiet.

“You give me one reason why I shouldn’t hang up the phone right now,” he was angry, no, furious with her. He was sad and angry and he knew he could use that. He knew he could hurt her with that, if only so that he could see her again.

“Because I am your mother,” she sighed.

“Not good enough,” he growled.

“Because you can come home,” she said. Her voice broke just slightly.

“You aren’t even at home,” he spat into the phone. “Uncle Howard has been searching the globe for you and you are nowhere!”

“I am home, Steven,” he heard her take the phone away from her face and place it over the radio. A song played softly with the telltale static tick of the radio Dad promised to fix and never could. She took it away and he heard the sounds of cardinals outside, chirping through the cold winter air. He knew those sounds like the back of his hand, like the sound of his father’s voice, like the smell of his sisters smelly socks, or the beat of his mother’s heart. Her breaths filled the empty sound once more and he matched his breathing to hers, trying to keep the tears from spilling out of his eyes.

“Can we come home then?” he asked. There was a small sniffle from her side of the phone.

“Yes,” she said. “A thousand times yes,” she let out a breathy laugh.

“Are you gonna tell me why before we come home?”

“Why what, Steven?” she sounded so happy, he almost hated to ask. Almost, he was  _ her _ son after all.

“Why you really sent us away?” he leaned against the wall and waited, with bated breath, for her to answer. She cleared her throat before doing so.

“Because I needed to kill Dottie Underwood,” her voice dropped an octave.

“Did you?” there was a long pause.

“Yes.”


	13. Earlier in 1965

“If my name was curiosity and you were the cat...” Dottie started. She was tied and cuffed and manacled to a chair which was chained to the ground  and to the walls both of which were solid concrete. She was not escaping this time.

“Shut up!” Peggy screeched. It had taken her far too long to realize two things in her life. Dottie could not be controlled, not by her, not by anyone but Dottie and thus, she needed to be killed before she could do any more damage. The other was growing apparent to Dottie, at least as Peggy understood it, if only because the Russian was noticeably avoiding the topic.

“All right, so big girl talk,” Dottie leaned forward and smirked. “How’s lil Stevie?” Peggy hit Dottie with the back of her fist so hard she heard her jaw crack. “Alright, Lexie still obsessed with Uncle Howie?” Peggy hit her again. “The funeral was nice, wasn’t it? Poor Father Al,” one more massive blow and Peggy stepped back. She panted, her rage making her more out of breath than her physical exertion. 

“Will you get to the point so that I can kill you in peace, Miss Underwood,” she snapped. Her head hurt like billy-o and she wasn’t getting any younger, so she wished beyond hope that she could kill Dottie and get on with it.

“You’re good, you know,” Dottie leaned back, at leisure even under duress. “Really good. You keep your composure up under fire. You keep your composure when I’m sitting here telling you how well planned my attack on your husband was. Now that he’s gone, maybe the poor kid will have a chance at being just like you,” Dottie’s smile was wicked, but not as wicked as the cramping in her sides. Perfectly normal, as she had been told all six times Daniel drove her to the hospital during her first two pregnancies. 

“You’re stalling, Dorothy,” Peggy said, her hands clamped down on the edge of the table where sat Daniel’s gun, complete with his favorite silencer, ready to fire when she was. She picked it up and examined it. It was in perfect working order, as she had made sure before kidnapping Dottie one final time.

“So are you, Margaret,” Dottie said. “You don’t want to kill me. You don’t want to baptise your third child in blood before the poor thing even has a chance to see the light of...” there was a soft whistle and Dottie slumped over.

“In the name of the father,” Peggy dragged a sheet over Dottie’s head. “And of the son,” she wiped the muzzle of the gun and emptied the rest of the magazine into the sheet covered figure before her. Before she could finish mocking Dottie’s baptism remark she started to cry. 

“See you in hell, Peggy Carter,” Peggy wasn’t sure if Dottie actually said it but she could have sworn that the sheet moved. She pulled it back and saw only glassy dead eyes looking back at her. She promptly threw up.


	14. 1965 part 8

“I swear English, you’re gonna get yourself killed one o’ these days and I’m gonna be left in charge of those babies of yours,” Angie said over the phone. She was in limbo, on her way from LA to DC to visit. She had no idea of Peggy’s “condition”. She had no idea of so much and Peggy was only too happy to keep her blissfully blind to the realities that kept Peggy herself awake at night.

“I know, Angie,” Peggy smiled to herself. Alex slept on her lap, or what was left of her lap. She stroked her daughter’s hair and ignored the incessant kicking of her youngest to listen to Angie talk in her lovely animated way about how she missed a plane for the first time in her life. In her life! Peggy found a small snare in Alex’s hair and toyed with it.

“I’ll be there in the blink of an eye, English,” she could hear Angie’s smile through the phone. “Don’t you worry,”

“No, I’ll leave the worrying to you, Angie,” there was a soft giggle and a short goodbye.

“Was that Angie?” Alex sighed sleepily and rolled off Peggy’s lap. The fire crackled merrily on the grate and Peggy nodded. She made to get up, but found herself stuck on the floor with her legs crossed. She reached for the couch and instead four hands shot out of the room before her to help her to her feet.

“I am perfectly capable of...” she protested, only to be interrupted.

“Accepting help,” Steven held out a strong arm. He was fifteen, broad shouldered and stocky like her brother had been at his age. She took his arm and pulled herself up. Se wobbled for a moment and then righted herself. “I don’t think Angie would appreciate finding you here on the floor when she gets here,” Peggy brushed off the back of her pants and stretched.

“Mum, when are you due?” Alex picked up a book for school and set herself to reading it, however absentmindedly.

“I’m due when this baby decides it’s time to come, Alex,”

“Don’t doctors tell you that sort of thing?” Steven asked. He planted himself on the couch and read over Alex’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Peggy’s voice faltered.

“Please tell me you went to a doc,” Steven turned to her and so did Alex. Their eyes were wide with something in between horror and disbelief. 

“I was doing things,” a lame excuse and she knew it.

“Doing what?” Steven asked. He turned to her and stared her down with those eyes so like his father’s, so like hers. It was a mirror and a painting all at once.

“SHIELD has its own hospital, Mum,” Alex closed her book and shook her head.

“Stop making excuses and take care of yourself,” Steven muttered under his breath.

“Or Angie will have your head,” Alex smiled. Peggy did too. Angie was a force of nature and they knew that. She wasn’t like Peggy, destructive, ripping through everything and killing as she went. She wasn’t like Daniel, who could go from rainstorm to hurricane in a second. Angie was a rainbow. She was to be revered and loved, not feared.

“It’s dangerous,” Peggy said. She joined her children on the couch and the poor thing groaned in protest.

“For who, you or the couch?” Steven said. She poked him in the ribs, even though he was a proud teenager, he giggled. She kissed his temple.

“For me,” she relaxed backwards and sighed.

“It’s only been ten years since you had me, Mum,” Alex said. She looked back at her mother with those huge dark eyes.

“In ten years you have learned to walk, read and speak three languages, do algebra and understand the basics of chemistry,” Peggy reminded Alex. “In ten years I have gotten older,” she could feel that, her age, in every move she made, in every breath she took. She could feel it in the scars all over her, the ones her children were not privy to see and those they were. She could feel it in her tired and aching soul that she was too old for this. Only the small movements, the quickening within her had told her otherwise.

“Do you think Uncle Howard is ever going to have a baby? He’s older than you,” Alex asked. Peggy laughed. She couldn’t quite tell if Alex was trying to change the subject or not. Her eyes were too fixed on reading her book, reading one line over and over again.

“I’m sure he and Maria  _ might _ get around to it,” Peggy said with a smile. They might not. they might be too busy with science, or Maria might not want them, either way Peggy would be happy.

“Will you be his godmother like Angie is ours?” Alex turned the page of the book and looked back at Peggy.

“That’s up to them, Docinho,” Peggy whispered the Portuguese pet name as softly as she could. It made her heart flutter and the baby kick.

“As if they’d choose anyone else,” Steven said somberly.


	15. Back to 1951

“How are you today, Madame Director?” Daniel knelt on the couch over her legs and, with a little maneuvering, kissed her lips. She was huge and he loved it. She was a little less thrilled and, as they were snowed in and they’d already finished all their paperwork, there wasn’t much to do but lie around and admire her. He was absolutely fine with it. She seemed a little less thrilled. He thought she might be getting nervous, antsy, close to delivery.

“I’m fine,” he could see something in her eyes that told him she might not really be fine. They were wide, dilated.

“Is that a lie, Director Carter?” she opened her mouth to protest but he rested a hand on her belly just in time to feel and see an enormous ripple move across her body. “Did you answer for your Mama, Amado?” he placed his hand on her belly and felt the soft round spot where his child’s head was supposed to be.

“Yes,” Peggy hissed. Her breaths came in soft pants and he could hear her gritting her teeth together. Her fingers raked their way over the couch cushion covers until the contraction was over and she sighed, near tears.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” he stroked his hand gently down her thigh and rubbed the thumb of his opposite hand over a small expanse of fabric on the round of her belly.

“I don’t think we’d be able to get ‘round the block let alone to a hospital,” she said. She looked, frankly, terrified. Her lips pressed together, paler than usual without her lipstick. He nodded in agreement and thought.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“Who would you call?” Peggy asked. Her hands lay, one at the top of her belly and the other at the bottom.

“Do you really want me to give a list of the people I had certified in midwifery for you?” she let out a wet little laugh.

“I suppose that would be nice,” Peggy shifted her weight and Daniel sat down properly, draping her lovely legs over his lap. Her ankles were swollen and her feet were almost a size bigger than usual but he didn’t care. They were attached to his favorite person in the world. He began to rub gently at her left foot and she sighed.

“Angie did it,” he said.

“No way!” Peggy sat up a little too quickly and gasped. He saw the baby move a little.

“She did it, for you,” Peggy’s smile was as beautiful as it was gleeful, just as she always was when Angie came around.

“She’s staying with Howard,” Peggy sighed with lovely relief.

“Just around the corner,” he nodded and looked down.

“Thank God for Angie,” she pulled his face up and kissed him sweetly and he savored it, the taste of tears and the remnants of her lipstick.

“She still loves you,” there was a long pause in their conversation, partially for a contraction to pass over Peggy like a horrible wave. It was also partially for Peggy to take a deep breath and prepare herself for her answer.

“ I know,” he knew Peggy still loved Angie too, somewhere in a deep and naive and precious part of her soiled soul. Angie was there to soothe and to comfort with sincere and blessed love. He was there to love all the parts of Peggy, even the ones that still wanted Angie and her smile, even the ones that murdered people. He was there because Peggy was afraid that Angie would get killed. He was there because Peggy married him, because he could take care of himself. He was there to kiss her and tell her loved her after she made the tough choice. He was her confession. Angie was her hallelujah.

“Well, I’ll go call her now,” Peggy stopped him, grabbed his shirt and kissed him again. It was a desperate searching kiss.

“I love you,” she said. It was a whisper in his ear, a breath on his neck, a moan of pain.

“I love you too,” he said, keeping their embrace. “But you don’t need me right now. You need Angie.”


	16. 1965 part 9

“You’re joking,” Angie said when she walked in the door. “English, you’re playing with me,” she was aghast, jaw sagging to the floor.

“Is is the dress?” Peggy asked. “It’s the dress isn’t it?” she wiped her hands off and removed her apron. “I’m going to go change.” There was a note of self consciousness in Peggy’s voice. She looked stunning, as always. She was barefoot in her kitchen, cooking something that looked suspiciously like a pie. English may not have been good at much in the kitchen, but she could do pies and soups better than anyone Angie knew.

“Stop, right there English,” Angie dropped her suitcase and her hat box with a resounding crack on the floor and took a step closer, holding out her hands, afraid to go further, afraid to touch, afraid to hug. “That’s Dan’s?” she was, of course, motioning to the elephant in the room, the bun in the oven. Peggy folded her hands awkwardly in front of her and nodded. Her eyes still had yet to meet Angie’s. “My God, Peggy,” she moved even closer to put her hand on Peggy’s stomach. She wasn’t all that sure what she was supposed to say. “When are you due?” To Angie, she looked ready to drop the kid yesterday and beyond.

“Hell if I know,” Peggy said, left hand resting on her lower back, rubbing gently, rumpling the fabric of her simple shift dress. Angie felt her chest tighten because that felt threatening, that little dismissal of the oncoming arrival of the baby. She hadn’t been present, maybe that was it. Maybe Angie hadn’t been there for her enough. Maybe it was that this was her third and she wasn’t all that worried, but Angie knew and felt acutely the pressing on of time.

She was getting into the age where she played mothers more often than she played lovers, where she was the dutiful wife rather than the starry eyed nubile girl. Peggy was older than she by a solid four years and Angie could feel cold fear creeping up her neck because docs started fussing over ladies who had babies that late. Sure they were old hands, but some stuff went wrong and Angie wasn’t ready to deal with that.

She wasn’t ready for Peggy to die. She wasn’t ready to go to her lov… her _best friend’s_ funeral with _her_ baby in her arms and _her_ children in tow. That wasn’t how it was meant to be. Peggy was supposed to outlive her by decades, by centuries, by millenia. She was never supposed to have to let go of her. Yet there she was, for the second time in her life, preparing herself to let go of Peggy.


	17. 1950

Colonel Chester Phillips cried when he walked her down the aisle. Angie didn’t really blame the old curmudgeon. Peggy looked like she belonged in a wedding magazine, mostly thanks to Angie and her Ma. She wouldn’t lie, Peggy made a stink about the dress. She didn’t want one, and in fact she didn’t want a church wedding. 

She wanted to do it in the courthouse to save expense. 

One call to Howard and the expense was covered. 

She didn’t want to trouble anybody to make the dress. 

Angie’s Ma had her measuring tape out 30 seconds after the word wedding, and promised endlessly that it was no trouble. Of course she would do that for Danny Sousa’s girl. He was practically family, the poor little awkward boy from down the street.

Peggy was relaxed once she was there in her beautiful luxurious dress. It hugged her in every place that was going to be Daniel’s. It was silky and beautiful, but not half so soft and beautiful as her skin when Angie did her hair, before she even got sewn into her dress.

“I’m glad you’re getting married, English,” Peggy tried to turn around, to face her, but Angie tugged on her hair a little bit and she begrudgingly faced the mirror.

“Angie,” Peggy said. Her eyes looked at Angie through the mirror. Angie didn't look back.

“I’m real happy for you,” she said, braiding and un-braiding, fiddling and twisting.

“You’ve every right to be angry,” Peggy said softly.

“I’m not angry!” Angie protested.

“You don’t get this. You don’t get this because I’m a selfish fool. Because I need to keep up appearances and he is lovely,” she turned and cupped Angie’s face in her hands. “You don’t get to walk down the aisle, Angela,” Peggy looked her in the eyes with such pain, such sorrow that it made Angie crazy.

“Cause I’m wrong inside, cause I don’t love boys,” Angie sobbed. She clutched Peggy’s shoulders, grabbed onto the silk of her slip with both hands and sobbed while her heart tried to tear itself in two.

“Because you have a career. Because you love all people so deeply and so well and I don't deserve you. I don’t love as deeply as you, and so I’m getting married. I’m getting married to prove to the world that I am not a heartless bitch and that I conform to their ideas...”

“I love you, English,” Angie said, the words bubbling like champagne. Peggy didn’t even pause, not like other girls, not like “gal pals” who danced with you, and then with boys, and then ran off to have babies.  

“I love you, too, Angie. I will always love you,” she was running off to get married and have babies but it wasn’t like that. She and Daniel were good for each other because they could talk about the horrible things they did all day long. All the killing and the spying and the shady stuff that made Peggy so sad, so soft, so reserved.

“Why?” Angie said.

“What?” Peggy asked.

“Why do you love me?” Angie demanded, sliding her fingers into Peggy’s hair, ruining a silken curl or two but she didn’t care.

“I love you because you have strength. I love you because of the way you look when you’re waking up. I love the way you sleep so deeply and you love so deeply and you embrace so deeply like you never want to let go. I love the way you memorize lines, like it’s a song,” Angie pressed a finger to Peggy’s lips.

“Why do you love him?” the words finished her heart off.

“Because he’s sweet and kind and brutal. He’s not strong, he’s weak and he has a hundred Achilles heels. He’d do anything for me if I asked. He kisses me like I’m his ticket to heaven and he reminds me of you know who when he talks about his leg and getting beat up as a kid. He’s deeply, madly in love with me and I love him too. I’m just not sure whether I’m only deeply, madly in love with only him, or if I’m deeply madly, terrifyingly in love with you two.” Angie kissed Peggy. Sweetly, kindly, brutally.

“Let’s finish up your hair, English. Don’t wanna be late for the carriage,” she twisted Peggy’s long dark hair up and around her head.

“I’m going to kill Howard with the thorns on my bouquet.” She smiled as she said it. Her lips ruined, ripe with Angie’s color, but they both let it be for a moment.


	18. 1965 part 10

Steven plopped down next to her on the couch about a half hour after his ma went to bed. He crossed his arms over his stout chest and looked at her. Angie looked straight back at him and knocked back her glass of wine, swirling the rich red around in her mouth. He took it from her and set it down on the coffee table. He paused, picked it up again and put it on a coaster. Angie frowned and squinted a little. Was his expression playful? Was it angry? What did he want from her?

“Can I have my wine back, Stevie?” she asked, sliding her shoes off, something she should have done hours ago, her back protested a little more than when she was in her thirties, but that was only to be expected.

“Sure, don’t spill it on the sheets,” he said, a pointed glance abive them and Angie was confused.

“I wouldn’t dream of ruining those blue silk sheets, Stevie,” she scoffed and picked up her wine again. “They were my Ma’s wedding gift to your parents.” Before she got a sip he put it back down on the table, on the coaster.

“Don’t ruin the eggshell ones either,” he said. Angie was a bit taken aback. She opened her mouth to say something but wasn’t quite sure what to say. The eggshell ones were on Peggy and Daniel’s bed… well… Peggy’s bed.

“Steven Benito Sousa,” she used his full name, trying to hide the fact that she was flustered, trying to hide the fact that she had, on many occasions in the past, long long ago, taken the opportunity to ruin his mother's sheets and would have liked to do so many times since. “I have no idea what you mean by...”

“When I was at boarding school I read a book by a guy called Alfred Kinsey,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair. Most boys of his age were chasing girls and smoking two packs a day for the fashion of the thing. He was what most people would call an “artistic” guy. He liked drawing and acting and non-masculine things that set him apart but Angie had no idea that he was not average in that respect.

“Steve,” she warned.

“Real interesting man, said it was okay to be like I am, or like I think I am, I’m not sure. But he was like Mum,” Angie had no idea what to say. “I didn’t know people were like that ‘cept for you and Mum, but there’s more of us.”

“I know, Stevie,” she sighed and rested her head in her hands.

“Go up and sleep with mum. Just sleep. She’s lonely, always has been,” Steve took her wine glass, drank the dregs and set it back down. “I don’t like it when she looks lonely.”

Angie climbed the stairs like a mountain and slipped into the guest room to change into her nighty. She heard Peggy shift down the hall. She felt butterflies rise into her stomach. She slid down the hallway and into the bedroom. Peggy was on her side, one pillow between her knees another under her enormous belly. Her hair fanned out to frame her profile. She looked precariously restful. Angie climbed onto the bed. Peggy woke with a start.

“S’okay, English,” she said. She pressed her front against Peggy’s back and, on second thought, slid her hand down to rub the sore spot she’d seen earlier. Peggy sighed and pressed against her hand. “I got you, English,” she breathed against Peggy’s neck.

“Angie,” Peggy said under her breath. Angie collected and rearranged Peggy's hair so that it wasn't obstructing her access to Peggy's neck and head.

“Yeah, English?” she pressed a kiss to her neck and watched gooseflesh form. She did it again, just under her jaw before backing down, running a hand down the wide expanse of Peggy’s side.

“I love you,” Peggy craned her head and neck around, searching Angie’s eyes with her beautiful brown ones. 

“I love you, too,” Angie kissed her once, on the lips and then nodded at her. Peggy took the hint and turned around letting Angie snuggle her to sleep.


	19. 1965 part 11

“Where is she?” Angie stormed into the building. Any number of agents threw up their hands. Some knew who she was, others didn’t. She’d starred in a fair number of popular Broadway shows and pictures of all kinds. She was a household name. Whether or not they knew where Peggy was, they were not about to get caught up in some Hollywood diva’s path.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid...” A young man in a crisp suit tried to stop her.

“Don’t test me,” Angie snarled. “Where is Director Carter?” She grabbed his starched collar and shook him. 

“Her office,” Rose said calmly. She carried a few files and set them down on the desk of one of the young agents. “Just picking some things up, Angie, no fuss,” Rose patted her on the back and Angie’s hair stopped bristling on the back of her neck.

“She has people for that doesn’t she?” Angie asked as Rose led her up and down and around the maze of hallways in the New York SHIELD headquarters building. “She should not be running around saving the world right now.”

“Oh shouldn’t I?” Peggy said from inside her office. She was sitting with her feet up, thank heavens, sorting files into one of six piles. A young man, only about five feet tall scampered into the room and screeched to a halt in front of Peggy with another pile of files. “Thank you, Charlie, please go back and practice combat skills, your scores need to improve significantly to achieve the score you need for field agent training and while butt kissing will get you quite far, it cannot improve your skills with...” She paused and waited for him to finish rather than telling him.

“Knives, throwing or otherwise,” Charlie scratched the back of his head and scuttled out of the office.

“Good work, Charles!” She called.

“I thought his last combat test was a great improvement,” Rose sighed and rested against Peggy’s desk. Angie worked her way around to the front of the desk where Peggy sat and frowned at her. Peggy shrugged and sighed sleepily. Angie watched her chuckle and shake her head.

“Don’t laugh, you scared me, English,”

That was when they heard gunfire from the hall. That was when all alarms went off at once. Rose and Peggy both jumped to attention. Angie screamed. Peggy had a gun in her hand before Angie could scream twice.

“What the hell was that?” Angie  hissed.

“Charlie!” Peggy called. Rose poked her head out into the hallway. There was the sound of footsteps and Charlie came sprinting back into the room.

“Hostiles. Front of the building’s been shattered,” the entirely glass front wall of the New York SHIELD headquarters. Angie felt sick to her stomach.

“What quarter are they in?” Peggy asked, hand on the phone. Rose closed the door and locked it..

“They’re headed towards the academy,” Charlie’s eyes were wide with terror. He had a gun and two knives out. His hands shook.

“Where are the Commandos?” She hissed.

“DC for a conference, except Gabe,” Peggy shook her head. ANgie heard that Gabe and his wife just had a baby. She couldn’t call him in.

“Call them here before they cut the lines to everything,” she ordered. Rose got on it, using the second phone and dialing.

“What about Omega Strike?” Charlie asked.

“Too green,” Peggy tapped her fingers on the desk, running through options in her head.

“They’re here!” He protested.

“I am not risking it! They are untested!”

“They may go anyways. This is their training,” Charlie reminded her. She gritted her teeth and shook her head.

“Let them, but they’ll not be going under orders from me,” Charlie sighed.

“This is Strike Team Omega, is this a drill?” A voice asks from a radio on Peggy’s desk.

“Strike Team Omega, this is director Carter. Do not engage. This is not a drill,”

“You’re joking,” a female voice came from the radio. “You’re kidding, right, Carter?”

“I am not kidding. I am keeping this simple. Lock the doors, do not engage unless they engage you,” she said.

“They have engaged us. They shattered the windows. They killed...” There was a small amount of muttering on the other end. “They killed seven people and Raul can’t see Rose.”

“I’m fine,” Rose said and there was an audible sigh of relief from Omega Strike.

“No,” Peggy spat into the receiver.

“What?” They all asked in unison.

“I’m going to fix this,” she headed for the door, radio still in her hand.

“Peggy!” Angie said. Peggy turned, a little unbalanced. The look on her face was one of grim determination. She had two guns, one in each hand. 

“What, Angie?” She asked. Her voice was soft, not the rasping grating hatred ridden growl of the few minutes before.

“You’re not going out there,” she said. Her voice full of pleading.

“Peggy, you can’t,” Rose said.

“Not many people are horrible enough to shoot a pregnant woman. If they are, tell Strike and all that,” She leaned in and kissed Angie. It was soft and sweet.

“Peggy, NO!” Charlie held Angie back as she left, slowly and carefully through the big door.


	20. 1965 part 12

The hallway was strewn with the chaos of a hasty exit. Peggy recognized it from both sides of any conflict. Papers fell like snowflakes and ash rose like moths. She placed her hand on her belly for a moment and rested against the wall, the reality of the situation settling heavy upon her.

“I’m not giving up on you,” she whispered. The baby kicked gently. She sighed and remembered Daniel for a moment. Angie was waiting for her back in her office, eyes wet with tears, mind brewing. But Daniel. He was waiting for her in another not very far off place. The touch of his hand would be on hers if she only just made one stupid mistake. The caress of his fingers and the warmth of his skin were in reach. 

She wouldn’t make any mistakes. For her own sake. She wouldn’t go up in flames to see him in the smoke.

“I’m glad,” Charlie’s voice nearly scared her to death, she turned on him, gun pointed straight at his head. “No need for that, Director.”

“Go back,” she hissed.

“No thank you, Ma’am,” he clicked a clip of bullets into his gun and cocked it.

“Go on,” she nodded reluctantly. He smiled and took something out of his jacket pocket. It was small. It was square. It was a polaroid of Strike Team Omega. They were hung all over one another, goofy grins on their faces. Two other faces were in the picture. 

“When were they here?” Alex and Steven were caught up in the messy group hug. They beamed and Peggy could see Alex had been lifted off her feet by the crushing hug given to her by James, one of the youngest members of Omega. Half of them were fresh out of high school. The other half were barely graduated from college when she approached them, each individually, with the opportunity to join SHIELD. So they came, one by one. Sylvia and James, Colin and Colleen, Jeremy and Fred, Harry and Mary. They were Daniel’s pet project, only because she had been busy setting up independant SHIELD academies everywhere within reach. But there they were with her children, two of them at any rate.

“Your husband brought them,” he said.

“Oh,” Peggy whispered.

“You gonna cry?” Charlie asked.

“No,” she wiped her nose and trudged out of the hallway into the ruined atrium. Glass was strewn on the floor and she could see police cars outside with their lights on. Their sirens wails were thin and reedy compared to the SHIELD sirens. There were a few dead, some smeared with blood, others cleanly killed with a headshot.

“Welcome to the party,” a voice said. Dark and musical tones enhanced his voice and his Russian accent threw her for a loop. He jumped down from the second level. His metal arm glinted in the light from outside.

“Hello,” she placed a hand over her belly. His eyes followed it. She noted that his face was painted or chalked or made up so that he looked like a racoon. The rest of his face was covered with a black mask but she could tell his face was in a perpetual frown. He looked like someone trying very hard to remember something.

“You are late. We brought you a present and you just missed it,” his hands on his machine gun made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Was it a clip of bullets?” She quipped back.

“Oh, no. It was better,” he ran his metal hand over the muzzle of the gun.

“Well, I suppose my present’s off the table,” she said, rubbing her hands over the place her child’s head sat.

“Unfortunately for you, no,” the dark Russian began to walk and Peggy couldn’t help but feel like there was something painfully familiar about his swagger. She watched his determined gait and followed him. Charlie followed her, gun up, but that didn’t seem to bother the Russian soldier.

“Well I do look forward to you trying to get past Omega,” she said, trying to make conversation, to push away the niggling doubt in her mind that the Russian might be brutal enough to kill her.

“Your baby strike team?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s them,” she said.

“They don’t stand a chance against the widows,” he said, his demeanor changed slightly, as if he was a boy wanting to shove his hands in his pockets.

“They stand a fair chance,” she said under her breath.

“Not against the widows,” he turned to her, eyes wide, pupils blown.

“You alright, soldier?” Peggy asked. He had stopped. She and Charlie too.

“I know you,” he said under his breath, soft and muffled by the mask.

“I’d hardly say you...” She was interrupted by a gunshot. Charlie fell to his knees with a squall. His hands went to his stomach where a red stain began to ruin his white shirt. She bent down, slowly.

“No,” the soldier said. His finger twitched on the trigger. Peggy stopped. She stood and watched. Charlie went horribly pale but when she began to bend down again to help him, he waved her away.

“Let me help him, please,” she whispered. Charlie had his hands pressed, however weakly, into the wound.

“Yes,” a little girl floated around the corner. She wore a little school uniform. Her black hair was pulled into two plaits on either side of her head. She smiled at Peggy, a sickening smile. There was blood on her teeth. One of the widows. Behind her trailed sisters, younger, older, of different hues, but all with two tight plaits and threatening looks on their faces. They came to surround the soldier. The first one eased the gun out of his hands and then, with one deft movement she stabbed him with a needle. His enormous metal arm grasped for her throat and attempted to crush her tiny windpipe. She moved out of his reach. The eyes of the soldier went wide and for a moment, after he stopped reaching for the girl, he reached for his mask. His breaths grew heavy. His body went limp.

“Call the other one back,” the oldest girl said. She had strikingly pale hair. A littler girl, five years old at most, approached Peggy. Peggy backed away, warding off the little girl with a hand. Her hair was dirty blonde. Her lips curved into a sneer. She was a baby. Babies shouldn’t sneer like that. She reached out her little hands to Peggy in a gesture that was hauntingly familiar. It was that “pick me up” gesture that every child, both of her children had performed over and over. 

That was when a second soldier walked from the smoky entrance of the mini-academy. He was a little less bulky than the first, and his arm wasn’t made of metal. It was his leg.


	21. Much earlier in 1965

His hands smoothed the fabric of her dress over her hips. Daniel’s lips pressed to her neck and she sighed. She ran her hand up the back of his neck, lingering over the stubbly hairs at the base of his skull. It sent shivers down his spine, the way her nails scratched at his skin.

“You sadistic man, you know I don’t have time this morning you are teasing me on purpose,” she pressed against him, easy and soft. He pressed back, a little off balance because of the new leg Howard had built him.

“I can’t help it if you drive me insane,” he nibbled at the shell of her ear and she groaned.

“You know I have three meetings today and that annual dinner with  _ all _ the politicians on earth tonight,” she said. “I have to go in five minutes.”

“The one you have a plus one to, or the one with the obnoxious traditions?”

“The one I have a plus one to,” she turned around and wrapped her hands around his waist.

“But I can’t come because Alex has soccer,” he shook his head and kissed his teeth.

“Football,” she corrected.

“Excuse you,” he kissed the top of her head. “Are you not in the United States of America, Director Carter?”

“I believe we are,” she mumbled. She dragged her blunt nails down his chest and bit her lip, taunting him. He loved this. He loved her. He kissed her once more, savoring the taste of her lips on his. He watched her leave, swaying her hips. She paused in the doorway and turned to him. She popped her hip. “When I come back tonight in the wee hours, I do expect you to have waited up Mr. Carter,” she blew him a kiss.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Sousa?” He sat down on the bed and looked at her, drinking in the sight of every inch of her.

“Absolutely, Mr. Carter, a very astute observation,” she kicked one of her heels up and continued on out, but only to the opposite side of the hallway. “I suppose I’m feeling very warm lately,” she tugged at the neckline of her dress.

“I think hot is the word you’re lookin’ for, Peg,” he grinned and she chuckled.

“Hot flashes, more like it,” Steven said gruffly, under his breath. He pushed past his mother, arms crossed over his sturdy chest. “Honestly, you two are disgusting,” Daniel and Peggy both let their jaws drop.

“You want to do the same thing to Janie Carson from down the street, Stevie,” Alex hustled on by with her backpack dragging on the ground behind her.

“Did you say hot flashes?” Daniel asked, incredulous.

“I am not  _ that _ old, Steven Benito Sousa,” Peggy scowled at their son. He looked pleased with himself as he slumped down the stairs.

“Apologize to your Ma, Steve,” Daniel called down the stairs. He walked out, a little unsteady. The new leg prototype pinched a little at the top near his inner thigh.

“Sorry you’re gaining weight, Ma,” Steve spat up the stairs. Peggy’s jaw tightened.

“Excuse you?” Daniel leant over the balcony to see his son staring up at him defiantly. It was his eyes looking so angrily up at them. “I ought to take a strap to you,” he hissed.

“No,” Peggy placed her hands on his chest to stop him. Her eyes looked into his with a knowing calm. She was upset, he could tell. She had every right to be with her son outright insulting her, but she was avidly against hitting either of their children. Normally he was too, but this was a line crossed.

“My Pa would’ve popped me one to the jaw if I disrespected my Ma like that,” he growled. Steven was usually a good kid. He was smart. He was fit. He had all the things he needed and Daniel made sure never to hound him about girls or friends. He let him drive the car if they were out in the country. Had he done something to make him angry? Or was it Peggy who had incurred his wrath?

“Good thing you are not your father then,” she said, straightening his jacket. She descended the stairs, all the while looking at Steven with what daniel called her “evil queen” look. It was when her eyes grew dark with pride. People melted before that look. Her son deflated a little bit. “Steven, I’ll take you to school. Some awkward silence will do the both of us good,” she said. She threw open the door and Steven didn’t move. “Come on, then,” he still didn’t move.

“I don’t want to,” he growled. Peggy didn’t hesitate. She snapped her hand out and grabbed him by the ear. He yelped loudly. Alex giggled.

“I am no longer in a good mood. If you hadn’t just insulted me twice I might be more inclined to be merciful. I have sworn on the grave of my mother not to raise a hand against you,” she hissed into his ear. “But for the first time in your life you are trying my patience,” Peggy’s jaw was set in a dangerous line as she released his ear. He ran to the car with his tail tucked between his legs, so to speak.

“Serves him right,” Alex was in absolute stitches. She stood, collected herself, and hugged Peggy around the waist. Peggy smiled and headed for the car. Daniel watched the swish of her skirts and smiled.


	22. Much earlier in 1965 part 2

The day was uneventful. She drove Seven to school in silence and he left without a word, looking like he’d been kicked. Peggy looked down at herself for a moment. Maybe she had gained weight. No matter. She had work to do. She hadn’t been as much bothered by his comments as she was bothered by the fact that he made them. He was angry and she had no clue why. She ran through her head all the things she had done with him in the past few months. They’d seen the Dodgers play. She’d gone to three of four orchestral concerts he’d been a part of. She had been home to celebrate his birthday. She’d done nothing worth the crimes of insult and sulkiness.

She shook that from her mind. She had a few SHIELD specialists going to be a part of NASA who needed to be briefed and debriefed etc. She had a financial meeting with Howard over lunch. She had an assessment to proctor and two meetings, with people from the LA and London offices, to deal with recruitment and the setup of the academies. Then she had to put on a corset. That was going to be hell, but the thing was bulletproof and a gift from Howard. She couldn’t not wear it.

By the time she got to the corset she was tired. She still had at least an hour of her least favorite work to finish. She called down to Rose who came upstairs and helped her squeeze into the damned thing. She patted Peggy on the back.

“You’re braver than I am,” Peggy nodded. She admitted, the dress was fabulous. One of those ones that flowed all the way down to the floor and swept along as though she were floating. It made it easy to hide weapons or booze on her way into somewhere, another handy feature, but the corset was a nightmare. Some kevlar panelling and more strings than she ever wanted to see again in her life. It made her look wonderful, pulling things up and into place, maybe a little too much.

“I don’t think I should be this brave, tonight,” she stood and went to the little dresser she kept in her office. She fumbled around in the second drawer for a shawl and found one rather quickly. It was white and soft. She threw it over her shoulders and Rose gave her a reassuring double thumbs up, and a hug. Peggy hadn’t a clue why, but it felt nice to have Rose there, especially since Angie had moved to LA, she had felt alone in a way that made her sick to her stomach. Sure she had her family, but she needed Angie too, otherwise her family was incomplete.


	23. Much earlier in 1965 part 3

“You called your mom fat?” Roland leaned back against the locker and shook his head. “Bad move, man. Bad move.” He ruffled his hair in that way that drove Steve crazy.

“I know,” Steve shook his head.

“No, I’m telling you, you messed up,” he ran his hands through his hair. “Your mom is cool and you just insulted her. I don’t even care if she doesn’t care, it was stupid and why did you even think to do that?”

“Ro,” Steve said.

“Don’t ‘Ro’ me. Tell me why?”Roland leaned in just an inch and Steve was tempted. He didn’t give in to temptation, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“Cause she is a little,” Steve said under his breath.

“Did you honestly just do it again? Call your mom fat? You’re more of an idiot than I thought you were!” Roland smacked him on the back of the head. Steve’s bitterness about his mom’s near constant absence wasn’t a school hallway conversation. He was sure Ro would listen if he asked him to, but later, and alone.

“No. I mean she’s gaining a little bit of weight and I don’t know why cause she barely has time to eat and all. I’m worried there’s something wrong with her,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and sighed discontentedly.

“My mom did that when she got pregnant with Teddy,” Franky walked up and leaned against his locker too. Steve opened their little circle to accommodate him.

“Huh?” Roland spat out a piece of his sandwich.

“My mom is not knocked up,” Steve scoffed.

“Oh. I thought you might be talking about your Auntie Maria or something,” Franky picked at a scab on his hand and flicked it away nonchalantly.

“What if she is?” Roland asked, more inquisitive than anything.

“No way. She set the limit at two,” Steve said. Deny. Deny. Deny. That was what he’d learned from Howard. If there’s a secret that might hurt somebody, keep it to yourself.

“Well is she gonna get rid of it?” Franky pulled out a piece of gum and stuck it in his mouth, chewing for a while before blowing an enormous bubble.

“Well for one she is not pregnant, for another thing I don’t know if Dad would like that,”

“Yeah, yeah. But she’s still young enough to have kids, right?” Roland asked. Franky’s gum bubble popped violently.

“Yeah,” Steve scratched at his neck, feeling awkward, feeling uneasy.

“Then don’t count it out,” Franky left, headed for his next class.


	24. Much earlier in 1965 part 4

By the end of the day Daniel couldn’t put weight on the leg. He hobbled upstairs and sat on the bed. He was too afraid to even to take of the leg. Peggy burst through the door with her heels in her hand about one in the morning. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him and frowned. He could see her face fall.

“Daniel,” she whispered. She looked stunning. The black silk waterfall that was her dress was beautiful but she was something else. She was otherworldly. Her lipstick was perfect. Daniel felt sick to his stomach.

“You look great, Peg,” he sniffled. He tried to move to stand up, to greet her but searing pain ran up his stump.

“Stop,” she said. She reached behind her back and undid the ties of her corset. She breathed a sigh of relief. Daniel’s breath hitched in his chest. She dropped her dress to the floor, leaving her only in her slip and he bit his lip. She reached over and pulled his pant leg up past the knee. “Is it hurting you?” Daniel couldn’t even open his mouth, he just nodded. He hated it. He hated the leg. He hated that he wasn’t whole and he hated the scars and the vulnerability they carried. 

All he wanted was to kiss her but pain shot up his leg at the slightest jostle and so he was stuck with his beautiful wife hanging over him, so close, so soft, so  _ her _ and no means or ability to make his fantasy a reality.

“Take it off,” she ordered. Her brow furrowed. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Peggy, can I do this alone?”

“You can barely move as it is, take off the leg this instant,”

“I'm fine, you stubborn woman,”

“Then tell me why you look bloody green, you foolish man,”

“Because I'm not fine!” he buried his head in his hands and for a long moment there was silence. 

“Take off the leg,” she pleaded.

“Or what?” He asked. His frustration was not with her. She’d done nothing wrong. He was angry at himself. Angry that he was not whole, that he was crippled. He was angry that he couldn’t play with his children like other fathers and that he was limited and...

“Or I’ll hold you down and take it off for you,” Peggy’s jaw was set in a grim line.

“Don’t, Peg, I wanna do this alone,” he changed tone, rolled over, showed his belly. She liked that, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Then I’ll go sleep on the couch,” he threatened. It would be better. It was better that she be alone than with him and all his self-destructive tendencies. That was why they were so good together, he figured. They both crucified themselves, just because, just because.

“You’ll do no such thing!” She was outraged. God he loved her and all her bullheadedness. “You can barely stand!”

“I can stand just fine,” he went to stand up. He swung his leg over the side of the bed and braced himself and everything, ready for fire to shoot up his leg... but she stopped him. She pressed him back down, resting her hands against his thighs, her face inches from his.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?” His heart stopped. He reached out and clutched at her shoulders. He gasped. “How long have you...?”  Her lashes fluttered, her eyes flickered down, to look at his leg, to eye her own stomach.

“Take off the leg and I might tell you,” she stroked her hand over his chest.

“Can you help me?” Her face softened.

“Of course,” she knelt next to him on the bed and began to work at the straps. There was clicking and snapping of buckles and such and when the damned thing was finally off Daniel couldn’t even sigh with relief because of the blisters and the raw flesh exposed by the absence of the leg. Peggy sat up and covered her mouth and, because of the sudden change in her position Daniel could see the tears streaming in shining lines down her cheeks. “Darling,” she whimpered. “Oh Daniel,” she looked him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He tried to pull her close but she held him at arm's length. 

“You stupid, self righteous. masochist, bastard,”she gripped him tighter, her hands grasping his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to break free, to stroke her hair, to comfort her because she was crying. Tears spilled faster and faster. She shook her head and held him firmly

“Stop apologizing!”

“I’m...”

“Stop! I know what you’re doing!”

“What am I doing? Huh?” He asked her. “Is it not enough for you that I hate myself is it? You have to criticize me for trying!” Suddenly, she kissed his mouth shut. She tasted like tears and  lipstick. He braced himself against the bed, riding out the passionate embrace, the blush that crept up his chest like he was seventeen and making out behind a church. Peggy broke away from him once more

“You’re killing yourself to make other people happy, to fit their ideal. You’ve walked all day on this thing and you didn’t say a word. You need to stop. I love you, Daniel. I love you. I love you more than I love sunshine and light and air and you are sitting there thinking you aren’t worthy of love because you lost your leg heroically on a battlefield. We’ve talked about this, my love.” She kissed him once more, tenderly, sweetly. “I love you with your stupid crutch and with your stump and your scars.” There was an inexorable silence, but Daniel didn’t mind. She was there, touching him, careful of his blistered leg. She rubbed her hand over his back and kissed his cheeks and his neck. He reached out and rested his hand on her stomach. Gooseflesh spread over his skin and he shuddered at the thought of it once more. Peggy carrying his child. Pride swelled in his chest at even the possibility...

“When did you start thinking you might be pregnant?” He asked.

“When your son called me fat,” he couldn’t help but laugh. They kissed, long and deep and he was content.


	25. December 27th, 1944

The snow was falling thick around him into the dark hollows where bombs and shells had fallen. It was all rather poetic, really. The Star Spangled Banner came to mind if he was honest. Danny and his buddy were trapped and it was Christmas, or was it after? The days and nights blurred into darkness under the reign of oppressive shelling and the hundreds of dead lying all around them. 

“Want a cigarette?” Carlos asked. He was shivering. They were surrounded by dead men with coats on, but none of them felt good about stealing from the dead. Sousa shook his head.

“I’ll take it,” a figure in a handsome blue jacket stood over the two of them. He had a dark head of hair and a devil-may-care sort of grin plastered across his face. Carlos looked stunned but handed him the cigarette anyway. The stranger lit it, took a puff, and sighed out smoke and vapor into the air. “Come on boys, didn’t you hear? Captain America’s in town,” it was then that Danny recognized the man.

“ Meu Deus!  You’re the sniper!” Carlos exclaimed. Daniel struggled to his feet and grabbed his gun.

“Sergeant Bucky Barnes is the name and sniping is the game,” he finished the cigarette just as the iconic uniform came into sight.

“Bucky,” Captain America said. “You got ‘em?”

“Yeah, this is…” he paused, realizing he had not asked their names.

“Private Carlos Alves,” Carlos shook the Captain’s hand with vigor.

“Private First Class Daniel Sousa,” Daniel was a bit more reserved, until he saw the smile. He really was something, all huge and muscular with that shield slung over his back.

“Let’s get you boys outta here,” the Captain slapped Carlos across the back and knocked him forward. He stumbled but regained his footing. Daniel followed. Then the bomb went off. There was a blinding light and pain shot up his leg. Blood and sweat and confusion followed, mingled with gunfire and the smell of, of all things, a woman’s perfume. When he came back to consciousness, Daniel Sousa, private first class, found himself slung over the shoulder of Captain America, who was running full tilt through a crowd of Allied soldiers. Every jolt of the Captain’s run made him want to scream. He bit his tongue and clutched one of the straps of the Captain’s uniform. “Am I hurting you, Sousa?” The Captain asked, free hand squeezing the foot of his uninjured leg to get his attention as gunfire and shells went on exploding and zipping around them.

“Yes,” he gritted his teeth.

“Bridal style it is,” the Captain flipped him over his shoulder and grabbed him firmly. “My girl might get jealous of you, Danny boy, but only if you promise to stay alive,” looking into the kind strong face of the Captain, Daniel lost consciousness again.


	26. Late 1965 once more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm mean.

The soldier with the metal leg looked freakishly familiar. He moved forwards smoothly, walking evenly on both legs. He was dressed identically to his unconscious counterpart, masked and goggled and with no skin showing, no features visible but his dark curly hair. 

But she knew him. 

She knew him deeply and intimately. She recognized the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. She had brushed her fingers through his hair and toyed with the cow lick on the back of his head. She knew the hands, even underneath the gloves, even behind the clenched fists.

“Daniel,” she whimpered. It was him, even though that was impossible, even though he was dust. “Daniel,” she said his name again and the baby kicked. He was alive and her knees turned to jelly. She closed her eyes and steadied herself against a wall. When she opened her eyes she saw a sight she never thought she’d see. From around a corner came Omega Strike followed by a couple dozen senior SHIELD officials. The Commandos, and even Howard.

“Director!” Sylvia and James, Colin and Colleen, Jeremy and Fred, Harry and Mary, they came around the corner in pairs, all their gear on, their weapons at the ready. They were followed by Gabe and Tim, Dernier and Falsworth, Morita and Howard. They spread out, forming an arrow point.

“Stop!” She held out her hand. “Do not engage!” Daniel had whipped around and she placed herself between him and her people. 

“Who are they?” Howard asked, lowering his weapon by a few degrees to focus on the little girls in their school uniforms. He shuddered.

“Soviets,” Peggy said, still focused unwaveringly on Daniel. He reached up to his facemask and pulled it free. She gasped because it was him. It was really him. “Daniel, you’re alive,” she cried. It hit her like a brick wall. Hope. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then there was a buzzing sound, like a cattle prod hitting flesh. He twitched, electricity running over the outside of the metal leg, and his face set itself into a grim expression of hate once more. He growled and reached out, gloved hands grasping for Peggy’s throat. He caught her and squeezed. Peggy heard the buzz of a bullet and the world went fuzzy and grey. She could see him, feel his shoulders under her hand. He was still holding her by the throat, unnatural strength aiding him. She watched blood spurt from his side. She felt a sting where the bullet grazed her arm. Another one came whizzing past and went an inch from her cheek, rendering her left ear useless. 

“Who the hell is Daniel?” He hissed through his clenched teeth. Then there was one shot from beside her. It was sloppy, but it got the job done. It went straight through her left hand and into his right shoulder. He dropped her like a rock and turned to run. She gasped and clutched her hand. The widows followed him and dragged the other soldier, before disappearing into thin air.


	27. Late 1965 once more part 2

Steve ran through the door of the SHIELD hospital with Alex hot on his heels. There was an actual trail of blood and muck on the floor, it had been raining when they came in. Angie flew in not ten seconds after. Steve checked behind him and continued on running harder. He skidded around the corner and saw the Commandos standing in the hall. Howard was pacing beside them.

“What is going on?” he panted.

“Kid,” Tim croaked. He had blood, not his, in a handprint on his button up. Steve shuddered. Tim tried to hold him back, tried to keep him from seeing in the tiny window into the room. Steve ripped his hands off.

“Tell me,” he hissed, pushing his Uncle Tim back against the wall with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed. 

“She’s in labor,” Tim said, evenly, raggedly. There were any number of things Steve wanted to say, most of them were expletives, most of them were expressions of fear. 

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” he backed off, suddenly feeling very small, very useless, very alone. “Is that her blood?” he asked, suddenly in a panic.

“Yeah,” Tim went to cover the handprint on his breast pocket. 

“No… no, no, no,” Steve started hyperventilating. She was going to die. He was going to be an orphan. He was going to have to take care of his sister… of his siblings. God! He didn’t know how to take care of them, especially not a baby. They were so tiny, so delicate

“It was her hand, I had to shoot her through the hand to get…  the guy to let go of her,” the realization hit him like a bee sting.

“You shot my Ma?” rage coursed through him and he started striking, punching kicking everything he could reach on Dugan. 

“Whoa kid, slow down,” Howard stepped between them, getting a neat fist to the gut. “There was a Russian soldier trying to kill her. He didn’t have a choice!”

“Where is she?” Angie hissed, hands on her knees, chest heaving.

“In there, but we aren’t allowed in, believe me, if they were gonna let anyone in, they would’ve let Howard in,” Tim said.

“They’ll let me in,” Angie said.

“You’re not family and she’s….” Howard held her back, much to Angie’s chagrin.

“She’s freaking out? Yes, that’s why I’m here,” Angie explained with her hands like always.

“I’ll go in,” Steve pushed towards the door before any of them could protest. He pushed open the door and closed it behind him. She was all but alone.  One nurse was fussing over her and a doc was checking something in her more private areas. She saw him. His mother looked him in the eyes and burst into tears.

For the first time in his life, Steven Benito Sousa was terrified. The nurse was taken aback as well, but she didn’t truly understand. She started trying to comfort his mother, touching her shoulder saying soft words. His ma closed her eyes and sobbed. He’d heard her cry before, but never seen it. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a cryer, especially not when she was injured. She gritted her teeth and bit her tongue, but now she was helpless and injured and he wanted to cry too.

“Steve,” she bowed her head and took breaths as slowly as she could manage.

“Mum,” he whispered. The doctor turned around and tried to wave Steve out of the room. Steve only moved closer. “Hey, mum,” he pushed the nurse gently out of the way, she didn’t protest. “You got shot? I thought Angie was gonna march right in and scream at you,” she kept crying, but she leaned towards him, rested her head on his shoulder. She smelled like blood and sweat, smoke and fear. “I’m so glad you’re alive. I saw all the smoke on the way and I was worried,” her sobs were uneven, breathy, arrhythmic. Then, after a minute or so came the thing. It looked horrible, the way her body shuddered, the way she squeezed his hand with her good one and the way the blood welled up on the bandage on her bad one.

“I don’t think baby means business quite yet, Director Carter, no need to push yet,” her breathing became steady again. The doctor patted her knee and smiled at Steve. 

“Doc, can I talk to you in private?” the doctor nodded, taking off his gloves. Steve nodded at his mother and she nodded back, looking a little less pale and frightened. “Be right back, Mum,” he smiled at her. The doctor led him out. They walked past the Commandos and Howard and Alex and he ignored them all.“How long?” Steve asked under his breath as the doctor grabbed a clipboard.

“Awhile yet,” he said noncommittally.

“How long?” he asked once again, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know exactly,” he said again, still very calm.

“Give me an educated guess, doc,” Steve hissed.

“Four at least,” he scratched the back of his head with his pencil, filling out some form.

“Can you give her anything for the pain without hurting her or the baby?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can give her oxytocin,” the doctor wasn’t really paying attention to him, just half-listening and patronising him. 

“I know what oxytocin is. That’s not gonna make it better,” he shook his head. 

“But it’ll be over more quickly,” he knew that. He’d done some research. He also knew that it  _ could _ be dangerous. But everything was dangerous. Driving cars and kissing strangers. Having babies was notoriously dangerous.

“Ask her if she wants it,” he said reluctantly.

“The oxytocin?”

“Yes,” Steve paused. “And let Angie in.”

“But she’s not fam...”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. What was that?” He interrupted.

“I can’t let her...” he protested.

“Shut up. And. Let. Angie. In.”


	28. Late 1965 once more part 3

The tranquilizer did nothing. It barely slowed him down at all, especially with the enormous metal leg pumping away. Tim loaded up another dart, this one with a bigger dose, and prayed it worked. There was no plan B. There was never a plan B, only ever a desperate scramble to see who could think of  _ something  _ before Peggy found out. 

Now they were chasing Daniel Sousa, brainwashed beyond recognition sporting a brand new metal leg that made him faster than the average joe. The dart hit Tim’s mark and there was a beat when Dugan thought that he might fall. No such luck, he continued to run.

“Dugan, you got anything else?” Howard asked, hands on the wheel, intent on following their target.

“No,” Tim growled, loading up again anyways, maybe one more shot…

“I’m gonna hit him with the car,” Howard said. He didn’t give Dugan time to tell him no. The engine revved. They squealed forwards rapidly. Sousa turned around, just in time to be hit in the metal leg with the bumper of the black SHIELD issue vehicle they had taken out of the garage. He flipped up and over the car in a perfect spiral. The world slowed down and Tim could see electricity rippling over the outside of the leg. There was an enormous dent, a glitch in the circuits, and so when Sousa tried to land the out of control spiral, he fell and skidded over 50 meters of rough asphalt. He twitched, and then went still.

“If you just killed him, we are dead men,” Tim leapt out of the car, real gun cocked at the ready.

“She’d have killed me already if she was ever going to,” Howard said. He ran his hand through his hair, newly salted with streaks of silvery grey. He followed Tim at a safe distance until they were both stopped in their tracks.

“Don’t let me near her,” they heard him say. His voice was rough and gravelly. “I’ll kill her if you let me near her,” the desperation in Daniel Sousa’s eyes was clear. He was bleeding from every visible orifice, save his eyes. They were bloodshot and wide. He was a man in pain.

“She’s gonna want to see you, Dan,” Tim rushed over to him, trying to lay a comforting hand on the poor man’s shoulder. He momentarily forgot that they electrocuted the poor bastard on a regular basis. A shock ran up Sousa’s metal leg and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Dugan managed to jump back before he too was shocked into oblivion. The current ended and Sousa opened his mouth in a silent scream.

“Get the leg OFF ME!” he said hoarsely. His body spasmed and he went still. Dugan watched as a tear tracked its way down Daniel's cheek.


	29. Late 1965 once more part 4

Steve sat outside the room and tried not to listen. He was tempted to put on his headphones and turn up the music because he had  _ never  _ heard his mother use so many expletives,  _ ever _ . Alex had her hands over her ears and was staring blankly at the clock. 

It had been six hours. She’d refused the oxytocin and accepted the presence of Angie. Steve hadn’t even been kicked out, he’d simply had to live otherwise he was going to flat out faint. 

He never wanted to have kids. Even if he ever did fake it and settle down with a girl she was never ever getting pregnant because that was some fresh newly minted level of hell in that room. Or at least that’s what he thought until he heard a different pitch of scream from inside. He bolted upright, as did Alex. They looked at one another.

“Does that mean...?” Alex asked softly. 

“Maybe,” he said, gripping the underside of the bench they sat on. There was another wail, thin and reedy and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He leapt to his feet and slid in the door. There was something different in the room, like the air pressure had changed. He saw Angie lying on her side next to his Ma. She was saying something very quietly in her ear while the doctor wrapped the tiny bundle in a blanket. Angie had her hand on his Ma’s hip and her chin on her shoulder. His Ma was crying, but she didn’t look sad. Her tears were half ecstatic laughter. Angie heard him enter and smiled. She kissed his Ma’s head and slipped away.

“Cocciolo,” she said to him. “Would you like to meet your baby brother?” Peggy Carter rolled onto her other side to face him and he saw her eyes full of something he’d seen before. It was the look she had when he fell down, or when he went to school the first day of the year. It was the look she gave Alex when she fell asleep on her lap talking to Angie. It was the same look she’d given him in the car on the way to school when he’d called her fat and she’d been furious.

“Yeah,” he choked. Now he was gonna start crying because there was a bubble in his chest about to burst with emotion. The doctor was smiling too, in that knowing way. He started to hand Steve the baby, to which Steve shook his head. “I can’ hold him first,”

“No, kid. Your mom got that honor. She was a little tired of waiting and she sort of...” he paused. “Well she grabbed him and pulled a bit which hurried the task along,” Steve let his jaw drop open. He looked at his mother who shrugged and looked rather pleased with herself.

“Mum, I don’t know whether to be impressed or grossed out,” he said, breathlessly confused between laughter and tears.

“Be impressed and hold your brother,” she nodded and for the first time, Steve took a good look at the tiny bundle. He had wisps of dark hair stuck out at odd angles from being dried. He had little almond shaped eyes, closed of course, tightly, like the world was a little too bright after the dark security of their mother. The doctor placed the baby in Steve’s waiting arms and he was surprised by the mass of the infant. He was very small, but not too small.

“He’s chunky!” Steve said.

“You bet he is,” Angie said. She had her hair tied back securely save one stray curl. His mom motioned her closer and tucked it behind her ear. The baby moved softly against him, tiny red mouth opening in a yawn. 

“What’s his name?” Steve asked. Alex entered the room and gasped when she saw the baby. Their mother shook her head.

“I don’t know what to name him.”

“Daniel James Sousa,” Alex said matter of factly. Their mother looked from one of them, to the other, to the baby. She held out her hands. Steve took the hint and handed her the baby. She held him to her chest, her fingers softly cradling his head. He made a little huffing sound like he was going to cry, but didn’t. He curled his tiny fists up against her and Steve saw in her eyes something deep and wild. She kissed the crown of his tiny head and breathed in the scent of his newness.

“Okay,” she said under her breath.


	30. Late 1965 once more part 5

They should have put him down. With the number of times he’d snapped and tried to kill the doctors, they should have had him shot. The leg would not come off cleanly. It was going to require surgery, and a hard one. It was soldered to a metal graft in his bone, according to Daniel during one of the increasingly random lucid moments.

“If we take it off at the hip, he lives, and we tell Peggy after,” Howard said, brow furrowed.

“We tell Director Carter now and we try to keep as much of his thigh as possible,” the doctor negotiated.

“We take it off at the hip and we tell Peggy now?” Howard posed the offer as a question.

“Alright,” the doctor agreed.

“Why are you so worried about telling her?” Daniel asked. He was shaking and sweating, like he was going through withdrawal of some kind. “She’s not with someone else, is she?” He didn’t even sound worried, just vaguely interested in what his wife was doing seven months after his death.

“No, buddy, no,” Howard said. He grabbed one of the wet towels that littered the room. He stroked one over Daniel’s brow, beaded with sweat. “She’s alright.”

“Sorry,” Daniel fidgeted. 

“No need to be sorry,” Howard said. Daniel had his fists clinging to the restraints on the bed. His wrists were raw and bleeding.

“Don’t let her see me till after,” Daniel said under his breath as the drugs kicked in.

“Okay, buddy,” Howard said. He wiped more beads of sweat off the poor guy’s forehead and went out into the hall. Charlie sat there, hand pressed to his abdomen where he’d been shot.

“She’s gonna kill you if you don’t let her see him,” Charlie croaked.

“Yeah, she probably is,” Howard wiped a hand over his face, stubbled with a two day beard. He was beginning to feel old. His knees protested if he stood up too fast and he was more grey haired than he was his natural black.

“I can do it if you want,” Charlie offered.

“No,” Howard said, declining. “She likes you and she already hates me,” he patted Charlie’s head gently and he slumped a little, relieved.

“Good luck, Mr. Stark,” Charlie said, craning his neck a little to watch Howard journey down the end of the hall.


	31. Late 1965 once more part 6

“Howard, please hold the baby,” Peggy said with measured calm. Her breaths were slow and deep. She was trying so hard not to kill him.

“Peg, I’m not...” he protested. She was angry. She was pissed. He wasn’t going to take her baby away until...

“HOLD MY SON HOWARD OTHERWISE I MIGHT PUT HIM DOWN AND STAB YOU,” Howard took the baby, careful of his neck like Peggy had taught him with Alex.

“Okay, Peg,” he sat down. Baby Daniel fussed a little, curling his fists up and sniffling.

“Where is my husband, Howard?” she asked.

“He is in surgery,” Howard said, shushing Danny.

“Are you taking off the leg?” She wrung her hands, biting her lips red.

“Yes,” Howard sighed.

“Have you explored keeping it on him?” Howard was slightly stunned. Why would she want to keep it on him? What on earth would possess her to think that that could possibly be a good idea?

“We have not, mostly because it electrocutes him into psychosis every five to ten minutes,”

“I saw that,” she shuddered, her jaw clenched.

“You are being incredibly calm,” he commented, kissing Danny’s head.

“Do not mistake control for calm, Howard.” There was a pause. “How did he get here?”

“We hit him with a car,” baby Daniel whined and pressed his face to Howard’s shoulder.

“You are very glad you’re holding my infant son,” Peggy fumed. He could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. Her nails dug into her palms.

“I am,” he laughed nervously. 

“Could you keep it on?”

“Peggy, why?” he asked, incredulous.

“He can walk with it,” she breathed.

“It tries to kill him!” Howard would have torn his hair out if he hadn’t been holding the baby.

“It is perfect! Did you see him? Daniel hasn’t walked like that in twenty years,” it was a longing. She wanted him to be able to walk, to be able to move like he used to. “Couldn’t you try?”

“We can’t, Peg, it’s too late,” he paused. “I can make him another one,” he offered. 

“No!” she shouted. Baby Danny woke and wailed.

“Whoa,” Howard backed away, not sure that the baby would be enough to protect him anymore. He held Danny close and watched his mother’s eyes turn fiery with rage.

“You are not allowed to go near him. You will not make him a new prosthetic, you will not take blood samples, you will not play with him like he is a hovercar,” she shook with anger. She gritted her teeth together and stared him down till he thought he might drop dead just from her gaze. “He would be too proud to tell me if it hurt him again,” she said.

“I won’t, Peg,” he shuddered. “I won’t play with him.”

“Good,” she sat down on the stark white hospital bed. Howard handed her Danny and made to leave. “Howard,” she called to him.

“Yes, Peggy?”

“Tell me when he’s out of surgery,” she kissed her son’s head, their son’s head. Danny was restless. His little perfectly formed legs moved in small kicking jerks.


	32. 1966

“How’s my Danny?” Daniel’s hands swooped down and scooped up the baby. Danny squealed with delight. “Huh?” he kissed all over his son’s face and tiny hands went up to shove away the scratchy face. Loud giggles emanated from Danny’s little mouth. “How are you?”

“Babai,” Danny burbled.

“He’s never gonna learn English if you keep speaking portuguese to him, Agent Sousa,” Charlie stroked a hand over the feathery soft hair  on Danny’s head.

“He’s a year old, Charlie,” Daniel handed Charlie his son. “He’s learning everything faster than ever,” Danny’s eyes met his father's and his little mouth grew into the biggest smile Daniel had ever seen.

“Calie,” Danny reached out for Charlie and the young man blew a raspberry before taking the toddler from his father’s grasp.

“Still can’t say that C-H yet, can you buddy?” He said it all whispery, close to Danny’s ear so he couldn’t help but shiver and cover both tiny ears.

“He can’t,” Daniel fondled the hem of Danny’s pants. “He mostly talks in Portuguese,” Danny talked in soft nonsense words while he traced the seams of Charlie’s suit.

“Ironic since the word Portuguese has a C-H sound in it,” Charlie handed Daniel his son back and Daniel walked jerkily back to the kitchen. His new prosthetic was hard for him to keep a steady gait in. It slipped out sometimes and caused him to fall. He’d been getting better, but he didn’t hold his son for three months out of absolute terror that, even sitting down, he would somehow drop him.

“Not when you say in Portuguese, Charlie.” Daniel poked his head around the doorframe and winked.

“Touche,” Charlie said. Danny poked his own head around the door and laughed hysterically.

“Tushy!” Danny shouted gleefully. He toddled towards Charlie and crashed into his legs.

“Touche, buddy. French, not your booty,” Charlie pantomimed and Danny laughed even harder.

“Tushy! Babai! Tushy!” Daniel laughed from the kitchen. The front door of the house opened and heels clacked against the tile.


	33. Late 1965 once more part 7

“Daniel, would you hold him for me a moment?” Peggy asked it like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was less a question, more a casual expectation. She held out the baby, expecting Daniel to take him, to hold him. He shook as he held out his hands to take their son. “There’s your Babai, sweetheart,” she said. Daniel sat down and cradled Danny close to him.

“Peg.” His breath caught in his throat. Two month old Danny nuzzled closer to the heat of Daniel’s frantically beating heart. He made a soft cooing sound and drifted back to sleep. Daniel could see his little tummy was round and full, could smell fresh baby powder. 

“Yes, Daniel,” she said cooly.

“I-I haven’t,” he stammered a bit.

“Held him?” she said. “I know.” she approached the window and threw it open. Warm spring air rushed in and over the three of them. Danny stirred. Peggy sat next to Daniel on the couch. She kissed his brow, then that of their son before examining his face. 

“Looking for something, Peg?” he asked. He leaned against her gently.

“For you to stop worrying,” she toyed with a curl on his forehead.

“You’ll be waiting for a while.” He paused and sighed. Peggy’s breath on him was warm, calming. “How was the funeral?”

“Horrid. I got you the right flowers but it almost killed Al. To say nothing of your mother.” Peggy went on talking softly. 

It was then that something came to him. Something dark and distant about his time with the Russians. He couldn’t quite see the face, the all too familiar face that wanted to burst from behind his eyes. Daniel offered Danny to Peggy in a gesture of fearful surrender. She took him without question and set him in the bassinet by the window. 

_ Daniel saw the edges of a face. He was bound severely to a wall, with metal and rope and cloth, and so was the… the stranger. Only he wasn’t a stranger. It was like a double punch in the gut, seeing the man’s face, and realizing that he wasn’t dead. His pulse throbbing in his head confirmed one and his swimming eyes the other. _

_ “Bucky?” He hissed, his voice cracked and croaking. _

_ “Who is that?” The other man asked, peering at Daniel from the dim hazy air. _

_ “You. That’s you, isn’t it?” Daniel struggled against his bonds, but it was futile. “You’re alive. Bucky Barnes. You’re...” _

_ “What are you talking about?” The man interrupted. His eyes flashing with fear, concern. But Daniel knew it was him. He could see the devil-may-care glint beneath the devils torturing the poor man. “Stop talking!” _

_ “Do you remember Steve?” At the mention of the name, it was like a glass shattered, leaving them with that tenuous calm that preceded anger, fear, pain. _

_ “Who?” Bucky shook his head, eyes huge with fear. _

_ “Steve! Peggy! Dugan! Do you remember any of them? Your friends?” Daniel tried to rip his hands from their bonds but again, to no avail. He could feel blood trickling down his wrist. _

_ “If I ever had any friends, they made me forget them.”  _

_ “Can I be your friend?” Daniel asked, resting his head against the wall in defeat. _

_ “I don’t know.” Bucky said softly. Daniel sat up a little and met the eyes, the piercing blue in the darkness.  _

_ “What do I call you then?” He asked. _

_ “I don’t know.” Bucky said again, more frustrated. His metal arm clanked against the chain as his agitation became clearer. _

_ “How about I call you…” It took Daniel a long moment to remember Bucky’s full name. The nickname was the man, and Bucky was very much a separate person from James, in many ways. “James?” James was the war hero to be toasted at dinners, Bucky was the one who Peggy had drinking contests with, brought up in the company of family and the Commandos. _

_ “Alright.” Bucky parrotted. “James.” _

_ “I’m Daniel.” _

_ “Daniel. They’re gonna make me forget you too,” James said, suddenly in tears. “I don’t wanna forget you too.” He struggled against his bonds once more. His whole body shook with the effort, the pain of memories just out of reach. _

_ “No they won’t. We won’t let them, will we?” He tried to comfort him, to get him to stop slamming himself against the stone wall, the floor. “We’ll remember each other.” _

_ James screamed and it echoed, hitting Daniel in the face over and over, like a slap. _

“Daniel,” Peggy stroked his cheek. “Tell me what it is?”

“Can’t.” Daniel sobbed. “I need a minute, Peg.”

“Tell me...” Before she could finish her sentence Daniel slammed his fist against the coffee table. The glass in the center shattered. Peggy started back for a moment, but only a moment, before she stepped gingerly through the shards to sit down beside him.

“I promised him I wouldn’t forget and I did.” Peggy’s hand running over his back kept him grounded to the present, to the memory of James, of Bucky.


End file.
